


Eight O'Clock Colombian

by elizpea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Multi, ill add more later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizpea/pseuds/elizpea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is an 18 year old senior with everything in the world going for him. He's rich, he's brilliant, he's free, and he's almost finished developing his first working AI system. With plans to attend MIT in the fall and take over his late father's business, Tony feels invincible.</p><p>In walks Steve Rogers, a new kid from Brooklyn, New York with clear blue eyes and a personality so sweet and docile it makes Tony want to vomit the first time they meet. He's so infuriatingly different than anything he's ever known, Tony can't hardly stand to be near him-the poor sap can't even work out how to operate a Keurig without interference on his behalf. Then Steve starts developing this annoying habit of paying attention to Tony, and acting like he cares about him even when Tony is an asshole, and staying with him even when Tony begs him not to, and Tony realizes that maybe, Steve isn't so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first actual fic I've written all by myself, so feedback is totally appreciated! Also, despite how long it takes me to write this, I will finish it, I pinky swear, scout's honor. I edited this first chapter a couple of times immediately after it was posted, so be aware that if you read it already, you might want to skim it again just to see if you missed anything I added. I realize how that could be annoying and I won't do that in the future.
> 
>  
> 
> Note: The title will eventually make sense, I promise.

Tony hated mornings. More specifically, Tony hated Monday mornings. 

There was no light streaming in through his curtains due to the hour-the only source of illumination in his living room was the tiny digital clock on the wall above the couch. Tony grinned to himself in the dark. He'd made that when he was 9. He raises his arms above his head and stretches leisurely, taking in the soft leather of his couch. _Huh._ He must not have made it to his bed last night. He swung his feet onto the carpet while he sat up, and promptly grabbed his head as a wave of shooting pain assaulted his frontal lobe. Oh, _that's_ why he wasn't in his bed-he'd probably been too drunk to find it.

He sat there for a minute or two, cradling his forehead until the pain completely subsided, and gingerly rose to his feet, using the curved arm of the couch to support his weight. He's just thinking of how extremely proud of himself he is for not throwing up all over the floor this time (the housekeepers had bitched for days about the trouble they'd had to go through to clean the vomit out of his mother's rug), and naturally his knee picks that  _exact_ time to connect forcefully with the glass coffee table. Tony cursed and dropped to the floor, fuming, and cradles his knee, silently vowing to never ever drink on a school night again.

Of course, this silent pact will probably only last as long as the last one, which was about a week and a half, but no one but him needs to know about that.

Tony slowly makes his way into the bathroom, stopping at every light switch and flicking it on-his head is throbbing and his knee feels bruised and he doesn't think he can handle any more upsets before the sun even comes up. He tries desperately to remember the events of the night before, but the only things that come to mind are fractured bits and pieces. He remembers the bitter smell of a freshly opened beer, the feel of a stranger's hands on his skin, the skunk-like smell of weed coming from a back room he's dead set on not entering but gets dragged into anyway. Tony isn't much of a party-goer in the sense that he does it to socialize- make no mistake, Tony only goes to drink. He'd honestly prefer just staying in with a bottle of fireball and his computers, but he knows that if he did, he'd just get shit from his friends about 'being an alcoholic' and 'not having any sense of self preservation'. He's learned in his 18 years that it's better to do unsavory things in the company of others. For some reason, no one ever seems to worry about you hurting yourself when you're in a group.

When he reaches the bathroom there's a fresh towel laying on the counter, folded into a neat little square next to his cologne and his aftershave. Tony ponders how funny it is that things he needs just appear for him seemingly out of thin air, and realizes that it's kind of unsettling. He makes a mental note to tell the help to be more respectably sociable and less like benevolent little poltergeists. Tony downs a couple of Tylenol for his aches and pains, then strips out of the charcoal grey henley and black jeans he'd been wearing from last night and turns the water in the shower up as hot as it will go. As he seals himself in and watches the large glass panes begin to fog up, he runs through his head and tries to make a mental list of everything he needs to do today. He has to finish his AP chemistry lab with Bruce, let Clint copy his English worksheet, help Natasha break into the boys' locker room to steal Thor's shorts during 4th hour as payback for some sexist thing he let slip in homeroom the other day, and he'll probably end up allowing Thor to wear _his_ shorts until Thor can convince Natasha that he didn't mean what he'd said. He stands still for a second, letting the water run over his face and down his chest, trying to remember the last thing he needed to do.

He knows it's something involving a favor to Coulson, the vice principal, a tall man with a receding hairline and a calm demeanor who is probably the only authority figure in Tony's life that he really doesn't mind telling him what to do. In fact, that's probably the only reason Coulson had asked him to do this thing, whatever it was, and probably the only reason Tony had said yes. Suddenly, the water begins to rapidly cool, and Tony is forced to rush the rest of his shower and hop out, grateful to find that his headache has mostly subsided. He skips shaving in favor of making an actual breakfast-he's always looked good with a bit of scruff, anyways-and heads out the door, a toast and egg sandwich in one hand, the keys to his Audi in the other. The sun is shining by now, but instead of feeling it's warmth, he only feels the warning signs of another headache, and he ducks back inside to grab his sunglasses before he bounds down his front steps and into the parking garage. He's still trying to figure out what exactly his task for Coulson is as he peels out of his driveway and speeds off into town, the needle on the speedometer never dipping below 85.

* * *

 

Tony Stark is extremely possessive. It's usually for good reason-he works hard on everything he does, applies himself in every aspect of his life, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone try and take some of that credit away from him. Tony's no fool, he know's he's way more well off than a lot of kids in his area (or any area, really), and he'll be the first to admit that the majority of his fortune, both monetary and otherwise, stems from his dad. Howard Stark was a genius, the type of man that only shows up once in a lifetime, and Tony knows that if he'd been born to anyone else he wouldn't be where he is today. That said, Tony's contributed his fair share to the family name, in the way of patents and investments and the like, and when the time comes, the role of taking over Stark Industries as CEO will come to him as easily as slipping on a pair of well worn shoes. Tony knows his worth, and he knows other people know it, too, and so when he says something belongs to him, they'd do well to remember it. 

One of those 'somethings' is his parking spot.

It's in the perfect location-equidistant between the main building and the labs and workshops across the lot, as well as being under a tree that provides shade on hot days and a wind breaker on cool ones. The bike rack near it is the one that Bruce always uses (why he chooses to bike to school when he's got a perfectly fine Camry at home, Tony will never know), and Clint always rolls up and parks his motorcycle right next to Tony's Audi. The spot is right next to a handicapped spot on the other side, which is never occupied, so Tony never has to worry about hitting anyone with his door. He had noticed the spot on the first day of the second semester of his freshman year, the first day he'd driven to school in his own vehicle, and had decided right then and there that it was going to be his.

The parking spot that was so important to him that he ended up running over some poor sophomore's moped when they'd taken it upon themselves to park it in his way (but seriously, what self respecting person drives a god damn moped to school, he was honestly doing the kid a favor), and when the little smart ass had told Tony that since it didn't have his name in it, it wasn't his to claim, he'd sat the kid down and had Clint make sure he stayed there while Tony went to the store and bought a can of bright red spray paint. He then came back, hopped out of his car, sprayed 'TONY STARK' in lilting block letters, and got right back into his car and pulled in. He'd walked up to the sophomore, capped the paint, and tossed it to him, not breaking eye contact once. Clint had maintained a solid poker face right up until they'd crossed the threshold leading inside, upon which he'd immediately burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. Ever since then, that parking spot had been his, and his alone, with no one even bothering to argue, because they knew that Tony would rather set his car onto cruise control and lay down in front of it than have to give up that spot.

And now, someone was in it.

Not just any someone. Whoever had taken his spot, the spot that  _literally had is name on it,_ was driving a black, four door Chevrolet Impala. Tony couldn't tell the exact year at first glance, but he was guessing late sixties. Clint wasn't here yet, so the spot next to the offending car was wide open. Upon closer inspection, the Impala was noticeably well cared for, as seen in the glimmer of its paint and the sparkle of its rims. Tony has always preferred the sleek, aerodynamic look of modern sports cars, but he can't deny the timeless beauty found in a classic like this. The edges of the body itself were very prominent, but smooth, the side mirrors round and a bit bulbous, and Tony narrows the year down to either '67 or '68. He pulls up next to it, turns his car off with a tap of his index finger, gets his hand around the door handle, and pauses. He can hear the soothing purr of the Impala through the door, its engine low and rumbling, not faltering once. It doesn't just sound good, it sounds absolutely beautiful, music to his mechanically-inclined ears, and Tony was now convinced that whoever was in that car knew how to take care of it. He's a little impressed, to be fair.

It's such a shame he's going to have to make them go park somewhere else. Preferably somewhere on the other side of the parking lot.

Tony hops out of his Audi, grabs his leather jacket off of the back of his seat, and throws it on over his shoulders as he makes his way carefully around the back of the other car, aiming for the driver's side. He's about to lean over and rap on the window when the engine suddenly ceases its purring. Tony takes a step back and folds his arms across his chest as the driver gets out, and he's about to say something when they turn around, and suddenly, Tony forgets why he's mad at all.

The guy that steps out of the car has got to be the most attractive human being Tony has ever seen in his entire life.

He's tall, immensely so, with broad shoulders and a toned waist, shown off by a form-fitting navy blue button down underneath an unzipped chestnut-colored leather jacket. There's a stack of books tucked away under one arm, and the guy leans back against his car to read a piece of paper in his other hand. Tony lets his eyes trail down the strangers legs, clad in slim khakis and ending in brown suede oxfords that match his jacket  _perfectly,_ and Tony knows that this guy should not look this good, no one looks good in khakis, and yet he has to force himself to quit staring at the guy's legs like a fucking creep and take a look at his face, which turns out to be a terrible idea. His hair is short and blond and swept to one side, not a hair out of place. His eyes are a cool, clear blue, brought out by the deep hue of his shirt, and they make Tony think of the sea, calm and cool and collected. He wants to trust those eyes and get lost in them, and Tony knows right then and there that he is completely, irrevocably done for.

The stranger finally notices Tony gaping at him, and for a second or two he just stares back. Then his mouth quirks up into a small, crooked smile, and with his eyes never leaving Tony's, he pockets the paper and holds out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Steve Rogers," he announced.

Tony stared at his hand for a second before carefully uncrossing his arms and grasping it.

"Tony. Tony Stark," he replies. Steve's smile grows, and before he can say anything else, Tony refolds his arms and cuts him off.

"You're new, aren't you?"

Steve's smile falters a bit, and his reply this time is more subdued.

"Yeah, I just moved here, I came from-"

"You're in my spot," Tony interrupts him again.

This time, Steve's smile vanishes altogether, and is replaced by a look of confusion.

"Your spot? What?"

Steve actually has the audacity to look down at the ground where he's standing, as if he's somehow standing on something that clearly belongs to Tony. When he realizes there's nothing out of the ordinary on the ground below him, he looks up, a careful, controlled coldness creeping across his features. It's subtle, but Tony knows annoyance when he sees it (which is quite often, if he's being honest), and when he remembers that this Steve character is one person he actually couldn't hold his own against in a fight, based on the fact that he seems to be really, really, _really_ fit, Tony makes the decision to avoid beating around the bush and just get to his point.

He sighs dramatically and puts his hand on top of Steve's Impala, giving it an affectionate-yet-mocking little pat. Steve doesn't move, just looks at him, that look of frustration still there, and Tony smirks up at him.

"Look, I know that you've never been here before, but considering you look like you're 23, I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that you're a senior?"

Steve hesitates, then when he realizes Tony's waiting for a response, nods once.

"Okay, me too. Here's the deal-I've parked here, in this spot, every  morning of every day for almost four years. I have fought tooth and nail to earn my place in this parking spot. I have punched someone in the jaw and ran over someone else's moped, all in the name of this here parking spot. For the love of all that is good and Holy, I even took a can of red spray paint and wrote my name in this parking spot, just so people like you would know that it was mine. It literally has my name, both first and last, printed in all caps upon it. My  _actual name._ "

Steve doesn't look annoyed by the time Tony finishes, he just looks more confused, which is aggravating. 

He blinks at him a couple times before saying, "So, what's your point?"

Tony is dangerously close to raising his voice at Steve and embellishing his threats with some serious profanity, so it's perfect timing when Clint rolls up on his bike in the spot one over from his usual, on the other side of where Tony's car is parked. He takes off his helmet and swings a slim leg over the seat, immediately recognizing Tony's antagonistic body language, and quickly heads over to either smooth things over or kick some ass, depending on how he's feeling by the time he gets there. 

"Well good morning sunshine, you're looking awfully lovely," he says to Tony sweetly. Tony just glowers at him until he turns, smirking, to Steve, and offers his hand. 

"My name is Clint Barton, and whatever he's said to you, I'm sure he didn't mean it."

Steve blinks at Clint for a few seconds before breaking into a fresh grin, this one directed just as dazzling as the first, except it's directed completely, solely at Clint, and it makes Tony's chest feel a little tighter knowing that no part of that grin is for him. 

Just then, a hand comes down onto Tony's shoulder, firm and solid. Tony knows just from the grip and the smell of cologne that it's Coulson.

"Mr. Stark, I see you've met Steve Rogers, our new student."

Tony and Steve make eye contact again, having a silent staring contest until Steve suddenly breaks contact to look at something in the distance over Tony's shoulder.

"Yes," Tony replies amiably, "we've just finished with out introductions, actually, and Clint and I were just about to head inside."

Clint looks a bit confused before Tony grabs his forearm and moves to walk off, but Coulson's grip tightens, and he ends up just grabbing onto Clint and standing there like he's in some sort of distress. Clint looks down at his arm, looks up at Tony, looks back down at his arm, and grabs Tony's hand, releasing each finger individually until his arm is free from his grip. Steve looks more confused than ever, and Coulson just smiles.

"Tony, do you not remember what we discussed yesterday?" he asks.

Tony starts to sarcastically say, "No, I'm terribly sorry, I can't seem to recall it, please enlighten me again," but all he can get out is "No-", because then it hits him. He remembers what Coulson asked him to do yesterday, and he can feel the slightly panicked expression that makes its way onto his face as he glances at Coulson, then to Steve, then back to Coulson.

"Wait," he says, "I don't think-"

"Steve," Coulson cuts him off, clapping his free hand on Steve's shoulder, "Tony here promised me that he'd give you a tour of the campus, and help you with any problems you might have on your first day."

Steve looks at him and doesn't say a word. He just looks at Tony, at his clear discomfort with the situation, and sighs to himself before plastering on a smile.

"Okay, no problem."

Coulson pretends not to notice how awkward the conversation has become, and claps both Tony and Steve on the back at the same time. 

"Good, I'll expect to see you both in my office after school so you can tell me how it went." 

He turns to Tony, giving him a stern look.

"If you leave him, give him poor advice, or do anything to make his day any harder than it needs to be, you're never parking in this spot again."

Before Tony can come up with anything to say to that, Coulson turns around and marches back towards the main office building. For an old guy that's only about 5'8", he really could make a convincing threat. Of course, that being said, Tony is only 5'9". The three of them are all watching Coulson's retreat when Clint turns to face them both.

"Well, as fun as spending the day touring a school I've attended for four years sounds, I think I'm gonna have to pass," he says with a grin. He backs up towards the gym, waving.

"See ya at lunch, Stark. Bring Stevie with you to meet the gang!"

"Traitor," Tony mutters under his breath.

Clint turns around, laughing, and breaks into a jog. Steve turns away from watching Clint make his escape to have a look at Tony, and it's completely different from the first time he looked at him. While that look was full of open kindness and hopeful friendliness, this look only houses annoyance. It make's Tony's chest clench, but he doesn't apologize, or ask Steve why he moved here, or anything of the sort. 

Instead, he smiles awkwardly and says, "So, what's your first class?"

Steve's eyes narrow at his sudden friendliness, and he wordlessly reaches into his pocket and grabs the paper he was reading earlier. He offers it to Tony, who takes it and says, "Hey, we have every class together except 3rd, 4th, and 5th period."

Steve's eyes get even narrower, which should look ridiculous but it somehow only makes him look even cuter, and he huffs under his breath, shifting his gaze to the ground. 

"Great," he mumbles.

Tony sighs, glances at the schedule, and leads the way into the main building, Steve following solemnly.

Today was going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY. This took way too long to put up. No matter how much I love something I never seem to finish it, but I'm gonna make myself finish this, for our mutual benefit. 
> 
> But really, I know I'm trash, pls don't hate me!

In all honesty, Steve really shouldn't have been surprised. He'd always had the worst possible luck, and today was only further proof of that.

So it's only natural that on his first day someone gets angry with him before he can even introduce himself. 

When he'd seen someone standing outside his car that morning with the posture of an angry prison warden, he'd racked his brain trying to think of what the hell he could have done to piss someone off before the first warning bell had even had a chance to ring. He hadn't been able to come up with anything, so he'd been forced to step out of the car and accept his fate.

Steve had lost a little bit of the tension in his shoulders when he'd seen the guy that was waiting on him, standing with his arms crossed and looking for all the world like Steve was just wasting his precious time.

For starters, the guy had been  _attractive_. Steve wasn't good at defining exactly what he liked, especially in other men, but he knew it when he saw it.

The stranger was a few inches shorter than Steve, with a wild mass of dark hair the color of coffee that was sticking up in multiple directions but still somehow looked like it was done purposefully. His eyes were a cool russet brown that reminded Steve of autumn, and he carried himself in a way that practically screamed  _I have better things to be doing right now._ His entire demeanor should have been off-putting, but somehow it just seemed sort of endearing. It didn't last, though.

Steve smiled easily, and the stranger had immediately made Steve regret being so friendly. The stranger's name was Tony, and he was very keen on interrupting people mid-sentence. Steve did his best to understand what the hell was happening, and it had taken all of his strength to avoid asking about the moped story.

Steve also learned that Tony had a friend named Clint, who drove a motorcycle and seemed like the most sarcastic little shit Steve would ever have the privilege of meeting, and that the vice principal Coulson was a calm man who was absolutely batshit insane if he thought Tony would consent to towing him all over campus.

Apparently, it was Steve who was insane, or maybe Tony. Either way, they were now making their way towards the main building, Tony leading the way and Steve following behind quietly.

Maybe they were both batshit. Either way, today was going to be a long day, and both of them knew it.

* * *

By the time they entered the school, the last bell was ringing, and there were only a few kids still in the hallways. Tony had slowed down and was walking next to him, though he never so much as glanced in Steve's direction. As he pointed at things, he waved Steve's schedule around magnanimously, like a flag of surrender.

"So this is the main building. Most of the classes you'll take are in here, unless it's something that requires a lot of space or a lot of equipment." Tony pointed at a room encased entirely in floor-to-ceiling windows. "That's the main office, only go there if you're dying or something, because the secretaries are absolutely useless, you would not believe the number of times they've pulled me out of class to help them use the copier."

Tony obviously didn't know how to use his inside voice; as they walked by, a woman with a wild tangle of short curly hair and thick round glasses poked her head out of the office window and gave the two of them a stern look. Steve smiled apologetically; Tony just smirked and kept talking.

"There are three floors, and each class has a different section for locker space. Our lockers are here in the main hallway, the sophomores have the third floor, the juniors have the main hallway in the second and the freshman get the annex." Tony turned towards the stairs on their right and began to climb.

"The annex?" Steve asked, looking up at the floors above them.

"Yeah, it's like this weird, dark little add-on that the board threw together a couple years ago so that we'd be able to accommodate more students. It's a little gloomy, but the only classes in it are foreign language, so unless you're taking one of those, you'll never have to set foot in there."

Steve smiled a little to himself. "Yeah, actually, I'm taking two."

Tony stopped at the top of the stairs and whirled around to face him incredulously. "You're taking two foreign language courses at a new school, with new instructors, and a late start? During your senior year of high school? "

Steve just shrugged. "I already know a little German cause I've taken it before, so that one won't be so bad. French seems like it'll roll off the tongue pretty easy, too."

Tony stood there with an odd expression on his face, like he couldn't decide if he admired Steve or was annoyed with him, then abruptly turned and walked down the hallway in front of them, shaking his head.

"Okay, so anyway, on this floor, there's mostly English classes, and a couple of history." Tony was gesturing at each room that they passed, not bothering to lower his voice at all, and was either oblivious or indifferent to the looks they were getting from inside every room with the door open. "The in-school suspension room is on this floor too, but from what I've seen, you're not likely to end up there."

Steve stopped in front of a blank door with the words IN SCHOOL SUSPENSION engraved into a plaque above the frame. He stared at it, wondering aloud, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tony just waved Steve's schedule towards the doorway dismissively and put his hands on his hips.

"Please, don't get all cute and humble. I know you know what I mean."

"Humble about what?" Steve asked. "Wait, did you just call me cute?"

Tony glanced at him sideways for a second, then rolled his eyes and said, "Come on, we're not done yet." He turned his back on the in school room and continued on down the hallway, Steve following along quietly. 

* * *

Steve was getting really tired of walking, and even more tired of Tony.

They'd spent the entire morning wandering through the campus- around the main building's three floors, including the gymnasium, the science wing, and the cafeteria. Steve probably could've drawn a map of the thing by now.

It didn't matter where they were or who they ran into, Tony always had to get his two cents in. So far, about 96% of what came out of Tony's mouth was snarky and sarcastic, and the other 4% was just plain weird. Steve had been called "cute" more times today than he could count. He didn't know what to make of that.

They were just finishing up Steve's tour of the other building, where the shops and the Art studio were located, when they were approached yet again by none other than Vice Principal Coulson. 

"Boys, I see you're getting along well."

Tony looked up at Steve, looked back at Coulson, and said, quite indifferently, "I guess." 

For some reason that made Coulson smile. 

"Good, glad to hear it. Anyway, when you're done here, I want you both to get to your afternoon classes. Steve, I'll excuse you for what you missed this morning." 

Steve nodded and smiled politely. 

"Thank you, sir." 

Coulson looked a bit taken aback, but pleased nonetheless, while Tony just crossed his arms and scoffed. 

"Take note Tony," Coulson said seriously, "you could learn a thing or two from Steve here." 

He clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder, bade them farewell, and left. 

Tony looked at Steve with his arms still crossed, muttered something about being a "kiss ass", and began walking back towards the main building. 

As they made their way inside, Steve finally had a chance to see how many kids actually went to this school. 

With the number of rooms and the size of the hallways, he'd figured it had to be pretty packed. He was pleasantly surprised with how much smaller the student body appeared to be as it moved towards the cafeteria for lunch.

Steve tapped Tony's shoulder and asked, "Why isn't anyone going out to lunch?" 

Tony smiled sadly. 

"We've had closed campus during lunch ever since the second day when some kid got put into a trash can outside of the McDonalds down the road."

Seeing the look of horror on Steve's face, he hastily added, "He's okay! I think? But the school still felt like they had to do something, and for some strange reason they thought that packing us all in here like sardines for forty minutes a day would teach us a lesson in bullying."

Just as they made it through the cafeteria doors, a kid a full foot and a half shorter than Steve went flying into the garbage cans next to them, his tray emptying food into his lap. When he collided with the cans, one toppled over and spilled it's contents onto the linoleum. His glasses dangled from his face; one side was crooked and they wouldn't stay put on his ears.

Tony sighed. "It didn't really help."

Steve looked up as a group of boys that looked to be about their age came sauntering towards the boy that was now sitting in a pile of garbage. He noticed the way that they carried themselves and the looks they wore on their faces, as well as the boy's scared expression and his trembling hands. His eyes were dancing about wildly, looking for an escape route, but Steve and Tony were still standing in front of the doors leading outside. Meanwhile, the group of older boys had every eye turned directly towards their target. 

It was clear to Steve what was happening here- they were the predators, and this was their prey. Like wolves approaching a wounded animal, they fanned out, blocking any chance the small boy had of escaping. 

Steve knew what that was like. He knew what it felt like to be trapped, to be beaten. Luckily for him, he'd gone through a miracle of a growth spurt, and had kept himself in shape. This boy was not so lucky. 

The majority of the group was standing around glowering and laughing while a boy bigger than the rest talked to the smaller one directly. Steve couldn't hear what he was saying, but from the look on the smaller boy's face, he definitely wasn't saying sorry. 

Steve moved towards them without thinking. Tony put a hand on his shoulder and said something but Steve wasn't listening. He was listening to the conversation in front of him unfold. 

"I told you, Parker, just give me the damn answers and-"

"No. I told you no, Flash, and I meant it." 

Steve was surprised at how strong the boy's voice sounded, despite the way his lip was trembling. 

The taller one suddenly grabbed the boy by his collar with both hands and lifted him up by his shirt. 

Steve grabbed one of his wrists. 

"I'm pretty sure the kid said no."

The bully turned his attention to Steve and dropped the boy onto his ass without so much as a glance. 

"And just who the fuck are you? It's pretty rude to be eavesdropping like you were. Pretty fuckin weird, too." 

Steve let go and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'm Steve. I'm new. I don't like the way you were talking to Parker, here." 

The boy threw his head back and laughed. "Oh sweet Jesus, Steve doesn't like the way I was taking to Parker!" 

The kids behind him, who'd been silently observing up until now, began to laugh. 

Tony chimed in just then. 

"Come on, Flash, Steve's right. Leave Parker alone, it isn't like he poses much of a threat." 

They all simultaneously looked down at Parker, who was still sitting on the floor, looking timid and small. 

Flash considered that for a second. "Yeah, I guess he isn't, is he?" 

He bent down and grabbed a banana peel that had wound up on the floor when the garbage spilled and placed it gently on top of Parker's head, much to the amusement of his followers. 

"See you later, Parker. Think about what I said." 

As the group turned and made their way through the doors, Steve bent down and began to adjust Parker's glasses. 

Parker let himself be manhandled a bit and stared at Steve. 

"You didn't have to do that. They only bother me, no one else. Don't get me wrong, that was really cool of you, but you probably just painted a target on your back." 

Steve just smiled and pulled him to his feet.

"Doesn't matter, I've dealt with worse." 

The boy set his tray next to the toppled trash can and smiled back. "Yeah, I guess that's fair. He really is more bark than bite anyway, Flash is. I'm gonna go find a janitor to clean this up."

He opened the doors leading out of the cafeteria, then paused. 

"By the way, my name isn't Parker. I mean it is, but, well, not my first name. It's my last name. My first name is Peter." He offered his hand towards Steve, who took it.

"Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you."

Peter stood there for a second in an awkward silence, then turned and quickly moved off to find a custodian. 

"Wow, you're an idiot, but you seem to have won little Peter's heart with your gallantry," said Tony from behind him. 

Steve laughed and moved to right the upturned trash. "Wasn't a big deal, Tony. I wasn't gonna hit them or anything, but they needed to stop."

"What would you have done if they'd have picked a fight with you then? I see those biceps. You telling me you wouldn't beat the shit out of them?" 

Steve paused thoughtfully. "I don't know. I just don't like bullies."

Tony regarded him strangely. "Yeah, so it would seem. Come on, all of that white knight shit probably worked up your appetite. Let's go get some food."

He put his hand on Steve's shoulder again- this was becoming a regular gesture- and guided him towards the serving line. The incident with Peter and Flash had left them at the end of the line, so they made it through relatively quickly. 

As Steve walked out towards the sea of cafeteria tables, he faltered. Just before he had time to ask himself where he was going to sit, he felt Tony grab him and pull on his arm. 

"Come on," he said, leading them to the far corner of the room, "I want you to meet the gang."


End file.
